


and I'll be good like I should

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (it deserves a tag of its own), Benny in suspenders, Dean in Panties, Dom/sub, M/M, lots of kinky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean wakes up to a little present -- black box, nice red ribbon. Turns out, it's panties, along with a note: <i>Wear this tonight, Sugar.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	and I'll be good like I should

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written as a (very, very late) Christmas present for Eve ♥ who requested sub!Dean/Benny. Ye ask and ye shall receive. It's my first try at this pairing, so... be gentle with my poor kinky soul. 
> 
> Title stolen from The Black Keys.

Dean groans and nuzzles his face against his pillow. As he tiredly blinks a few times and rubs his eyes with his fingers, he realizes he might have slept in – yet it still feels like it’s way too early to get up and start functioning like a human being.

He rolls over in the bed and reaches out with his hand, in vain hope Benny might still be there. Of course he isn’t; Dean’s hand lands on Benny’s pillow, cold and abandoned. Benny must have left for work hours ago, while Dean was still sound asleep. 

The thought makes Dean feel somewhat guilty; he makes himself sit up. He rubs his face once more before opening his eyes for good. He exhales, his tongue heavy in his mouth, sleep still carved into his face. Perhaps that’s why it takes him a minute or so to notice a little black box sitting on Benny’s side of the bed, red ribbon holding the lid down, blocking easy access.

Dean shuffles on the bed and takes the box, weighing it in his hand. 

A wave of excitement rushes through him and a grin settles on his lips before he can open the box. Small presents are always the highlights of Dean’s days (and Benny often grants these). He idly thinks back to their last night, considers if this should be taken as a reward or simply as something Benny did because he wanted to make Dean happy – happier than he already is – but either way, Dean’s fingers are eager to reveal what’s inside the box.

Dean unties the ribbon, lets it slide, and takes the lid off. 

There’s a note sitting on top of whatever is hiding in there, and as Dean skims his eyes over it, he realizes it’s not just an ordinary gift; it’s something special, something Benny took good care of, even bothered with the box and the note.

_Wear this tonight, Sugar. Wait for me like a good boy._

A shiver runs through Dean. The grin has faded from his face, getting replaced by anticipation – joined by a slight blush that creeps onto his face when he drops the note and looks into the box one more time.

The panties he takes out – soft against his fingers – are the same shade of red as the ribbon was. It takes Dean’s breath away, and he wonders; wonders how Benny knew what this would do to Dean, just holding the piece of clothing, imagining it grasping his body tightly.

Dean now knows he is not allowed to, not this time, but for a split second, he closes his eyes and gets lost in thought; he can see himself in those panties, laced and delicate. And he can see – no, he can _feel_ Benny’s fingers stuffing them to the side, granting himself access to Dean’s ass. Dean manages to snap out of it before he can go further and imagine Benny’s dick thrusting into him, and he looks back down at the panties and the note.

He realizes he can’t wait for Benny to get home that night.

 

Benny is always Benny in Dean’s mind, unless they decide to do a scene. Dean’s mind snaps then and Benny turns into Master, but other than that, they’re just like any other couple. 

It’s true that Benny brings all the money and Dean does all the chores, but they both like to think it’s only temporary. Dean is between jobs at the moment, has been for a few weeks, and it made him feel confused for some time – he felt like they fully switched and he was now the nice little sub, always ready to please his Master, but after a talk, they both agreed that that is not the case. 

Their case is different. Dean is always on the receiving end, that is true, but they only do scenes every once in a while – and tonight seems to be one of those nights when they do. 

 

Between vacuuming and cooking lunch and dinner, Dean’s anticipation grows. 

An hour before Benny usually gets home, Dean breathes out and nods to himself, leaving dinner to cool down and heading off to take a shower.

After that, he uses his fingers to stretch himself open so Benny can have his way with him – and it’s hard to do this without getting off – and then he proceeds to use one of the gifts Benny has given him – one of the smaller buttplugs, pink and expensive (or so the online store told Dean when he looked it up). 

The panties are a tight fit, Dean figures out as soon as he goes to put them on. It’s strange, the fabric almost scratching him at first before he gets accustomed to it. He feels silly for agreeing to this, as he moves and his cock feels trapped and the fabric is brushing against his skin in all the worst ways possible. He grits his teeth, though, and the uncomfortable feeling fades within a few minutes.

Dean considers greeting Benny just like this, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager -- and part of him wants to build up some sort of anticipation in Benny, too. And so he puts on his jeans and a t-shirt. Barefoot, his hair still a bit wet from the shower, he returns to the kitchen and waits for Benny, sitting on the very edge of the chair.

When he finally hears Benny close the door behind him, he gets up with his pulse speeding up, and makes it to the hallway.

“There you are,” Benny drawls and Dean quickly drops his gaze. Thankfully, Benny holds his chin up as he walks up to him, a smirk plastered on his face. “Thought you weren’t even waiting for me to get home.”

This looks good on Benny, Dean decides when he’s allowed to look up and is met with Benny’s intense stare. 

“I’m hungry,” Benny continues as he runs his fingers across Dean’s cheekbone. “Dinner first.”

Dean nods, and gently, he takes Benny’s hand and leads him to the kitchen. He doesn’t sit down himself, completely at Benny’s service.

Besides, he really doesn’t do eating before fucking. 

Benny is not a fan of that either, as it turns out, because he’s finished with food within minutes and the glass of red wine Dean has poured him sits almost untouched on the table when Benny gets up. 

He’s the one leading the way this time; not really taking Dean’s hand, but following the path to their bedroom, counting on Dean to stay behind him. And Dean does, feeling the friction of the panties against his dick with every step, not to mention the buttplug still inside of him.

He undresses Benny with care after he’s told to do so. He takes off his blazer and hurts his fingers on the clips of his suspenders. His fingers, however, are familiar with how Benny’s pants work; unbuttoning them, taking care of the zip, opening them up to pull them down. He crouches down and holds them as Benny steps out of them and despite his growing arousal, he folds them and places on the chair, accompanying the suspenders and the blazer there.

Benny’s shirt is loose now, and as Dean works every button, Benny’s hands fall on Dean’s hips and his fingers dig in, pulling Dean closer.

“Look at me,” Benny commands in a quiet voice and Dean does, now unbuttoning Benny’s shirt only by memory, slower. 

Benny leans in, and holding Dean’s chin between his fingers again, he seals their mouths together. Benny’s lips envelope Dean’s mouth and his tongue forces its way in. Dean whimpers softly, almost inaudibly, as Benny’s beard burns against his lips, leaving it reddened. 

“Go on,” Benny says as he pulls away, an all-knowing grin on his face, and Dean momentarily hates him for it; because his whole body is on fire already and they haven’t even started, and Benny knows.

Suddenly, Dean’s fingers grow shaky, but thankfully, there are only two buttons left. The shirt slides down Benny’s shoulders, but Dean catches it and soon enough, it joins the pile of clothes. Dean drops to his knees, his fingers carefully hooked behind the hem of Benny’s boxers. He pulls the underwear down, and Benny once again steps out of them. Dean then proceeds to roll Benny’s socks down, and Benny is kind enough to cooperate; when all is done, he is even kind enough to let Dean nuzzle his thigh, his nose almost buried in Benny’s pubic hair.

“Eager much?” Benny laughs and buries his fingers in Dean’s short hair, tugging at it and making him pull away. “On the bed, boy.”

Dean nods in confirmation, more to himself than to Benny, and never getting up, he kneels to the bed and climbs on top of it. He regains his balance on his knees, watching as Benny approaches him.

“Careful,” Benny warns him as if he could sense that Dean has started to relax and do whatever he pleases. Dean doesn’t tense up, but he takes the note and drops his gaze in shame. 

Benny is much quicker with Dean’s clothing. He pulls the t-shirt over his head as if it was a piece of paper. With Dean’s jeans, he is more careful, almost like a kid postponing the opening of his most precious present. 

Dean lies back on his back and lets Benny pull his jeans down to his ankles and then off. 

“Look at you,” Benny muses, his huge palms running up Dean’s thighs. 

Dean swallows hard, experiencing a brief moment of embarrassment. He closes his eyes, thankful for having lied back. Benny’s hands are gentle for a few moments before digging into the skin of Dean’s inner thighs, bruising them, pressing on his veins, just the right amount of painful. 

It doesn’t take long until Dean’s hard – all it takes are Benny’s fingers running over his dick, the contact with the panties’ fabric suddenly pleasant.

“Look how you ruined those, Sugar,” Benny chuckles then and Dean takes it as a command, even though it probably isn’t. He brings his head up anyway and he’s almost ashamed to see a dark wet circle where his pre-come has leaked and, yes, indeed, ruined the fabric.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles as he throws his head back, Benny’s fingers gripping Dean’s hip.

Benny hums, low -- another warning -- and Dean closes his eyes. This is not a good night, he keeps forgetting.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he adds, once again ashamed. Benny’s fingers loosen the grip and it eases Dean’s conscience as well.

“Well,” Benny mutters, and suddenly he’s hovering over Dean, his palms cupping Dean’s ass easily. His mouth finally connects with Dean’s, devouring it, and his fingers slip under the panties’ hem and keep going until they reach Dean’s hole. “Oh,” he sighs when he pushes his finger inside and hits the buttplug.

It moves inside Dean, brushes against his prostate, and Dean can’t bite the moan back; it escapes his mouth, throaty and long, and way too loud.

Benny adds another finger and catches the buttplug, pulling it out. “Like a good boy,” Benny comments, as if remembering his note from before, but Dean couldn’t care less; he feels empty, way too empty, and he needs attention right now. The only difference between their usual sex and a scene is that he would ask for it, normally – like this, he barely dares to move, because he’s here for Benny now, and if Benny doesn’t want him to come, doesn’t want to fuck him, then it is okay with Dean. He’s okay with pushing his needs back.

Benny doesn’t fuck him right there and then, no, even though Dean can feel his hardened dick pressing against his thigh.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Benny commands and now it _is_ a command, Dean knows, sees it in Benny’s face. “Through the panties. You gonna come for me, Sugar?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean breathes out obediently and his hand goes down. 

The piece of clothing is wet, staining Dean’s hand, almost, and the fraction is just not enough; Dean gives another moan, one of discomfort this time, but Benny’s still hovering over him, paying close attention to everything, one of his hands still on Dean’s ass, his forefinger barely brushing against his entrance.

But Dean does his best. He does his best, his pace quick, frantic, desperately trying to fulfill Benny’s order, and when Benny sees, one corner of his mouth goes up in a satisfied grin.

“On ten, Sugar,” he says and Dean’s eyes shot open, his hand stopping for a second. “You heard me. You better come before I say ten, boy, or else I ain’t gonna let you come at all. Understood? You goin’ to come for me?”

Dean is speechless for a few seconds, his eyes wide, uncertain. They’ve never done this before, and despite his arousal, he’s almost unsure he could do it. But then Benny’s hand squeezes, and his body moves against Dean’s impatiently, and Dean knows he might as well try. He might as well try, because he _wants_ to. He trusts Benny, trusts his decision, trusts his opinion; if he thinks this will work, then who is he to say no?

He nods shakily. “Yes, Sir,” he murmurs, his hand moving again.

Benny’s face somewhat relaxes upon Dean’s answer. “One,” he says then, and Dean realizes, _oh_ , it’s on, he better start trying, but how, how does he do this, how does he not fail this, but then again – he was only moments away from coming. And all it takes to go back is to look up at Benny, feel his body heat hitting his chest, feels his dick almost at his hip. It’s all back then, his hand sure again.

“Two.”

And only in a few minutes, Dean is sure of it, Benny will take him – he’s letting him come right now, and even if it’s not like he imagines, even if Benny doesn’t want to fuck, then that’s okay too, because the panties are so tight around him and so are his balls.

“Three.”

For a second, panic settles in Dean’s chest. Three suddenly seems so close to ten; only moments away. And he’s once again not sure if he can do this, not with these thoughts bothering him, and he doesn’t know what to do to scare them away. Benny reaches out with his free hand and rests it on Dean’s chest, covering his nipple, steady as ever, reassuring. Sugar, you can do this.

“Four.”

Dean hasn’t made any progress and he knows it. He’s hard, and his hand still keeps that quick pace, but it’s not going anywhere. Benny’s presence is distracting; with him there, Dean would rather have him inside him, fucking him, rocking them both in a steady rhythm. He wants so much more than his own hands, he’s desperate for anything Benny could give him, and at,

“Five.”

Dean realizes this is actually his punishment, not a reward. His hazy mind is not completely sure what he’s being punished for – his short disobedience, his loose manners… whatever it is, it’s both bad and good. Dean closes his eyes and decides to take it, accept what he’s been given, and he spreads his legs just a tiny bit more. 

“Six. You gonna make it, sugar?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Dean stutters and a whimper gets caught at the back of his throat as he works his dick. It’s difficult; if he could just stuff his hand down his panties and give himself a nice twist, a nice squeeze, it would be different. The whimper turns into a displeased groan.

“Seven.”

Yes, seven is definitely way too close to ten. Dean breathes out and gritting his teeth for a second, he manages to finally relax. 

He hides at the corner of his mind that’s got fantasies, and suddenly, it’s Benny’s hand working him, and Dean knows two things; it feels good and he wants to come for Benny, and he will always want to come for him.

“Eight. Getting there, Sugar, eh?”

Dean’s hips jerk and it almost _hurts_ , but he’s close, so close he sees red behind his eyelids.

“Nine.”

Benny’s voice is distant, entirely different dimension, even. Dean’s got seconds; seconds to hear another word, seconds until he comes in his panties, staining and ruining the fabric even more. But it’s what’s Benny asked for, and it’s okay,

and as Dean comes, he has to press his lips tightly together to stop himself from crying out and calling Benny’s name. The sound gets trapped in his mouth, and desperate to get out, it’s no longer a name but a loud noise exploding in the back of his throat, demanding, and it makes Dean go deaf for a second.

Even Benny’s voice is lost in the buzz of Dean’s sudden orgasm, but when he finally comes to – finding the real world somehow unpleasant after what he’s just experienced, almost willing to dive back in to the madness his head became when his orgasm had hit him – he’s breathless and a few words make it to his ear.

“You’re so loud, Sugar,” Benny comments and Dean’s almost disappointed it’s not praise coming out of Benny’s mouth. He feels like he just ran a marathon, his lungs still barely functioning, trying to recover. “Too loud.”

Dean doesn’t have the time to as much as try to understand what has just been said, as Benny takes him by his hips and makes him turn around. It’s like Dean doesn’t weigh a pound, and his arms and legs are still a bit shaky as he’s forced to find his balance in a kneeling position.

Now that he’s not touching himself, his come drying on the fabric, the panties get cold. But Dean is sure that is not the reason why Benny tugs at the panties’ hem and proceeds to pull them down and off.

Benny leans in, then, his dick pressing against Dean’s ass, and – well. That is unexpected.

“T’ keep your mouth shut, boy,” Benny almost whispers, and Dean’s suddenly got his mouth full of soft dark red fabric and his own come. The smell goes up to his nose and invades it as he inhales sharply, but his teeth bite down on the panties anyway. There’s a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as he focuses on keeping the piece of clothing in. He can do this. 

He hears Benny spit and then he’s pushing in, easy as it is, Dean’s hole still wet and stretched from the buttplug. Benny heaves a sigh, one of his hands pressing against Dean’s lower back – and it keeps pressing on and on and on until it’s too much and Dean gives in, his legs apart, his body fully pressed against the bed.

As Benny starts moving in him, Dean’s softened dick rubs against the sheets, unpleasant and cold and unfamiliar. Dean can feel half of Benny’s weight on top of him, and he feels both completely crushed and smothered, and utterly safe. No one could hurt him except Benny, and Dean trusts him.

The tip of Dean’s tongue goes dry after a few moments, sweat sparkling on his forehead. He groans around the fabric from time to time, but tries to keep it quiet, to show that he does remember his place and respects it, even though he had to be reminded.

He’s surprised to feel Benny’s hand clasp over his mouth, pushing the panties even deeper into Dean’s mouth, the taste of his come hitting his tastebuds once again. 

Benny thrusts into him slowly, enjoying each second of it, but he’s rough, going deep each time.

He somehow manages to lean in even more, his chest now touching Dean’s sweaty back, and he presses his lips against Dean’s temple. Benny’s beard burns, stings against Dean’s face, and Benny’s hand slips and covers Dean’s nose as well.

Too little oxygen, Dean thinks, but his body is too weak to react right now – his body is too busy responding to Benny’s dick, his thrusts, the way he moves them both on the bed, and yes, his dick is starting to harden again, almost painful.

“Such a good boy for me, Sugar,” Benny pants against Dean’s ear and all Dean can do is whimper, his face reddened. His hands fly out and instead of tapping it out and letting him know like that, they catch Benny’s forearms, trying to let him know he needs to breathe _now_.

Benny moves his hand and pulls away, and Dean is _happy_ to be left with just the panties in his mouth. 

Benny tugs at Dean’s hips again, and Dean, completely lost and already desperate for more, goes willingly. His chest still pressed against the sheets, his fingers curled into fists, he kneels and moans softly when Benny spreads his cheeks open, which somehow makes his thrusts even more intense.

“Yeah,” Benny moans, and a tiny drop of usual Benny slips into that single word, “Show me how you like it, just takin’ it like that.”

Dean almost cries out when he feels Benny’s hand wrap around his hard dick, because – he doesn’t want it to end. He wants Benny to stop and tell Dean to fuck himself on his dick (because he would); he wants Benny to pound into Dean and then let him be, not letting him come until later that night; he wants Benny to leave and let Dean sob desperately as he wants more.

He doesn’t say any of those things, of course. Instead,

“Thank you, Sir,” he breathes out around the cloth, because after all, it does feel good and right and it doesn’t matter that Benny won’t understand those muffled words.

It’s not like he could actually say no to Benny’s dick hitting his prostate, not like he could slap his hand away and ask for hours of teasing and foreplay.

Dean hisses when Benny’s palm finally meets Dean’s ass. It meets it hard, and Dean wishes it would go on so he could later turn around and see his ass bruised even on the outside, but all he gets are three more slaps and it ends there.

Benny’s thrusts go quicker soon, turning into a chaotic, unsteady rhythm, out of sync with his hand still working Dean’s cock.

They are both silent by this point; both their brains morphed into two balls of emotion, their mental capacity only granting them access to soft whimpers and moans. If you looked closely, you would see Dean biting down on those panties as if his whole life depended on it.

He hums around the piece of clothing once he’s too close, afraid he might not be able to get the message to Benny; but Benny always understands.

“Yea, come for me again,” he breathes out, jerking Dean off while thrusting into him, and Dean only manages to mumble a ‘thank you’, muffled by the cloth, before he comes again, staining the sheets.

His ass tightens around Benny’s dick and he arches his back, and he can’t help but cry out when Benny doesn’t care and thrusts into him anyway, not giving him a second to rest, just pushing his way through. Perhaps it’s the tight heat of Dean’s hole that does it for him, but soon enough, Dean can feel how shaky Benny’s thrusts grow and how much he digs his fingers into the pale skin of Dean’s freckled hips, and then Benny comes with a loud grunt.

Benny is careful not to collapse on top of Dean but next to him, worn out and exhausted, his breathing just as shallow as Dean’s, only his hand resting on Dean’s back.

Dean, when he’s sure the scene is over – the smile in Benny’s eyes being clear enough --, spits out the panties and taps his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It’s dry and he needs at least a sip of water, but instead of getting some, he shuffles closer to Benny.

“That was nice,” Benny says in that Southern drawl of his and his lips spread in a soft smile.

Dean shifts on the bed again until he’s able to nuzzle his face against Benny’s shoulder and hide his expression, as if trying to hold the moment close for just a few more seconds.

He sighs, then, and pulls away. “How ‘bout a shower?” he suggests, his voice ragged.

“Sure thing,” Benny nods.

None of them move for another five minutes anyway.


End file.
